A man would never tire of Abigail Hunter's exuberance for life.
"I was just thinking what a wonderful wife you would make for some lucky man, Abigail."
Abby arched an eyebrow. "Are you proposing?"
"If I were younger, you would be the woman for me. But I'm almost certain I couldn't handle you at my age. I probably couldn't even have handled you when I was younger."
"Did you just pay me a compliment?"
He grinned. "Yes. Yes, I did."
They both burst out laughing while Patricia looked on, aghast.
Abby wandered through the general store, looking at different fabrics. She disregarded the pinks and other pastel colors and finally settled on a bolt of deep maroon broadcloth, a green-striped lawn, and a deep blue serge. She was still undecided about the deep green silk taffeta, but she quickly added it to her purchases before she changed her mind. After some agonizing, she chose three leather split skirts, a brown, a black, and a light tan one.
With her arms loaded she walked the short distance to the Herbert house, where the local seamstress lived.
Her knock was answered immediately by Mary Herbert. "Abby Hunter," the sweet-faced woman said, smiling, "please come in."
Abby struggled with her packages until Mary took them from her and placed them on an empty chair.
"Mrs. Herbert, will you help me pick out patterns, and make several gowns for me?"
The woman smiled warmly. "Abby, after what you did for my Rob, I will make you the most beautiful gowns this town has ever seen."
"How is Rob?"
"He's feeling good about himself. He always tells me he can't turn into a bully like Johnny Brisco or his friend Miss Abby won't like it."
Abby was suffering from conflict as she gathered all her trousers and carried them out of her room. She now wore one of the split skirts and found it surprisingly comfortable.
She walked out of the house to the back of the barn, where she deposited the trousers in the barrel where trash was burned.
Navidad appeared at her side, looking amazed at the way she was dressed. "What is it you are going to do, Senorita Abby?"
"Burning the past. Light the fire before I change my mind, Christmas."
He nodded. "It will be as you say."
He watched her walk back to the house, thinking there was something very different about her. And what did she mean, she was burning the past?
He shook his head. With Senorita Abby there was always mystery.
Jack had returned home in the early afternoon. Again, Abby was glad to see that he was sober, and she was genuinely happy to see him.
As they sat around the table eating supper, no one commented on Abby's changed appearance until Frances came into the room.
"I see you finally took my advice," the housekeeper said, pushing a plate of chicken and dumplings in front of Abby.
"Yes. It was time."
Patricia touched Abby's hand. "I would like to have a skirt like yours."
Abby took a bite of dumpling before she answered. "That's easy. We just have to ride to town. They have it in three different colors at the general store."
"If the two of you are finished talking about fripperies, I would like to tell you about the letter I got from my son today," the general announced. "He says the other officers' wives at the fort want to give you a grand party, Patricia." His gaze moved to Abby. "He asked that you come as well as a companion to Patricia."
"f got a letter from him too, saying much the same thing," Patricia said. "Abby, you must come with me. I would be terrified of so many strangers."
"Of course she'll go," the general blustered.
Jack saw the torment in his daughter's eyes before she lowered her head. "You will go, won't you, Abby?"
"I would rather not."
"You should go, Abby," her father pressed.
"Please say you will," Patricia pleaded.
She didn't want to go, and yet she was afraid of never seeing Jonah again. The fact that he would even want to see her after what she had said to him was a wonder.
"If you would like me to, I will," she said finally, knowing she was making a mistake. But she couldn't help it. This would be her last time to see Jonah.
Fort Fannin, one of the more picturesque forts of Texas, had been constructed of limestone because the stone littered the area and was easily accessible. The entire outer wall of the fort was stone and virtually impregnable when manned by guards. The officer's quarters were actually a two-bedroom house set apart from the other dwellings.
Abby was seated in the back of the buckboard beside Patricia when the guard on duty waved them through the gate. As they drove in, she entered a world she could never have imagined. Soldiers were marching on parade, and they stopped and turned in the general's direction, standing at attention.
The general smiled because he knew the tribute was for him. He saluted, and the sergeant at arms had the men stand at parade rest.
The ladies had been helped out of the buckboard by two eager troopers, so the general could turn his full attention to the honor his son's troops were offering him.
"Sir," the sergeant said respectfully, "would you care to inspect the troops?"
Abby wondered where Jonah was. She had expected him to be there to greet Patricia upon her arrival.
After the general had done his duty by inspecting the troops, they were escorted to Jonah's quarters.
The main room was spacious, with spears, lances, and other Indian artifacts adorning the rustic walls. A colorful woven Indian rug covered the middle of polished wooden floor.
Sergeant MacDougall appeared at the door and greeted them with a smile. "The major sends his regrets, sir, and begs to be excused until tomorrow. He said I was to explain to you that he had been called to Fort Worth on army business." He waved forward the men who were carrying the trunks. "I was asked to put the ladies in the back bedroom, and you can have the major's room, sir. He's been bunking in his office since he took command here, and never actually used the room."
Abby didn't have long to consider whether she had done the right thing in coming, because Grant appeared at the door and she was happy to see him. She smiled and clasped his outstretched hands.
"Look at you, all dressed up," he said, kissing her cheek.
Remembering her manners, she introduced Jonah's father and Patricia to the ranger.
"The fort's been buzzing with word of your arrival, sir," Grant said, shaking the officer's hand. "Most of the soldiers have never seen a real general before."
"Sergeant MacDougall, Mr. Zachary, suppose the two of you show this general around the post. I have been looking forward to seeing the fort my son commands."
Grant looked at Abby as he walked to the door. "I'll want to see you tonight."
She nodded. "You can tell me all the news."
Grant had been escorting Abby around the fort, and they had just come out of the infirmary. He steered her toward the stables, where they saw several HalfMoon-trained mustangs. She saw the U.S.A. brand on a brown filly she had trained herself and felt great satisfaction.
"What are you doing here, Grant?" she asked, turning to the tall ranger. "Did you find the men who had robbed the payrolls?"
"I didn't, but Jonah did. He's one smart man, Abby."
"Yes," she said, looking down at the toe of her slipper, "he is."
IIe tilted her chin upward. "What's wrong, Abby?"
"Everything and nothing."
"That's not an answer."
She looked into his earnest eyes and wished with all her heart that she loved him instead of Jonah. He was safe and familiar, and he didn't stir passion in her like Jonah did. "Grant, there is really no one I can talk to about what I am feeling."
"You can talk to me."
She walked into his arms. "I have never been ashamed of my actions before now. I feel like I have betrayed Patricia, and I don't know if the feeling will ever go away."
"Do you mean because you are in love
with Jonah?"
... yes."
"Abby, none of us can help who we love. You don't need to feel guilty about that."
"I shouldn't have come here."
He held her away from him, studying her expression when he asked, "Why did you come?"
"Jonah asked his father to bring me. I could have refused, and at first I did." She looked at him pleadingly. "What am Ito do?"
He watched her face closely when he said, "You could always fall in love with me."
She smiled at his teasing. "I wish I could."
He tugged at a stray curl. "I was almost in love with you, but not so deep that I couldn't climb out." He grinned. "Course, if you were to give me the least encouragement, I could be hopelessly lost in those green eyes."
"I don't want you to love me, Grant. And I don't want to love anyone."
"Well," he said, steering her out of the barn with his hand at her waist, "now that we've settled that, you can go riding with me tomorrow."
She laughed up at him. "I would love to."
Patricia was waiting for Abby when she returned from her walk with Grant. "Mr. Zachary seems a very nice sort of man."
"He is. Some woman is going to be very fortunate to have him for a husband."
"But not you?"
"No. We're just friends. I like him too much to marry him without loving him."
"Yes. That would be a 'tragedy for anyone."
Abby settled on the bed. "Show me what you are going to wear tomorrow night."
Patricia opened her trunk and spread a pale yellow creation across the foot of the bed. Abby touched the delicate fabric and smiled. "You are going to be so pretty in this."
Patricia folded her gown and laid it back in the trunk. "Let me see your gown."
Abby had to think for a moment. She had hurriedly collected her gowns from Mary Herbert the day before they left town, and she hadn't looked at any of them except the wine-colored traveling dress she now wore. "I don't know what it looks like. I remember the material was green."
Abby placed the box on the bed and opened the lid to find a note lying on top of the gown, and her curiosity was piqued. Unpinning the note, she read aloud: "`Abby, I don't usually do this much work on anyone's gown, not even my own. But this is my way of saying thank-you for what you did for my son, Rob. I know his gift to you was one of Clover's litter-mine is this gown and the gloves. I only wish I could see you in them. You have a true and loving nature, and you are my son's friend for life.'"
There were tears in Abby's eyes as she lifted out the gown. It was made from the pattern Mary had helped her select, but it didn't quite look the same. There was a soft fabric drape down the back that swept to the floor. The neck was low, and the sleeves were tiny and puffed. Around the hem and around the band at the sleeves, Mary had embroidered tiny pink rosebuds. A pair of elbowlength gloves were at the bottom of the box.
"It's so lovely," Patricia said. "Whatever did you do for her son?"
Patricia looked shocked when Abby laughed and said, "I taught him to fight."
Abby and Grant had been riding for several hours and had just returned to the fort when she saw the line of cavalrymen in the distance. Grant motioned for her to follow him, and they galloped into the fort.
There was a sudden stirring of excitement as the soldiers became more alert and watchful and came to attention. "That would be Jonah," Grant observed as the blue line of cavalrymen entered the fort.
This was a Jonah Abby had never seen. He dismounted and two men ran forward to take his horse. Sergeant MacDougall stepped forward, saluted, and stiffly reported on all that had happened while Jonah was away. There was something he handed Jonah to sign, and everyone was quiet as he read it over, scribbled his name, then handed it back to MacDougall.
"Sergeant, dismiss the troops," Jonah said. Behind his order was a tone of undeniable authority.
Troopers suddenly seemed to relax and went about their usual activities. That was when Jonah turned to Abby. He walked toward her and Grant, but his gaze was on her. His uniform was dusty, and he looked weary, she thought.
"You have been riding?" were his first words to her. "You are wearing a skirt."
She nodded, raising her gaze to his. "Yes."
For a long moment he stared at her with those sky-blue eyes. He almost seemed nervous, and Abby wondered why. "You came. I wasn't sure you would."
She tried to smile but couldn't. "You invited me." Her gaze went to his shoulder. "How is your wound?"
He flexed his arm. "All but well."
"I'm glad."
He took a breath and turned to Grant. "I would like to see you in my office on the matter involving Williamson."
"How did the trial go?"
"He will spend the rest of his natural life in prison." He glanced at Abby. "If you will excuse us?"
"Yes, of course."
He turned and walked stiffly away, and immediately two soldiers fell in behind him to do his slightest bidding.
"Now, that's a strange situation," Grant remarked to Jonah as he followed him.
"What?"
Grant noticed that Jonah had come straight to Abby, and had not gone to the officer's quarters to see Miss Van Dere. "It's nothing, I'm sure. I was just thinking aloud and deciding I was going to back up a bit and watch how things go."
"I don't always understand what you are talking about."
"I know you don't. But I understand you, though. You're so mad at me at the moment you could bite the head off a penny nail."
Jonah didn't deny it as he gazed coldly at the ranger. "I wish I could tell you to leave her alone, but I don't have that right."
"No. You don't."
Jonah entered his office and moved to his desk. "We will speak of the Williamson matter."
Patricia had arranged Abby's hair, and then Abby helped Patricia with her hooks and laces.
"You look wonderful," Abby said, standing back. "Jonah will love you in that gown."
"I'm nervous. I know he's waiting for me in the other room, but I don't want to see him just now."
Abby frowned. "Why ever not?"
She -shook her head. "If you were ready, you could come with me."
"I still have to get into that gown. He will want to introduce you and his father to everyone. You don't need me for that."
Patricia reluctantly left the room, and that puzzled Abby. She could hear their voices, and she turned to the window. She would like to go back home and not attend the dance at all tonight.
Why had she put herself in a situation that could only be torture for her?
Abby stepped up to the door of the reception hall, her heart drumming in her ears. She stopped twice before she entered, knowing that Jonah, his father, and Patricia would be in a receiving line. This was such a formal affair, and she was afraid she would do something to disgrace herself. She wished Grant were with her. She could use his strong presence tonight.
Finally she drew a deep breath and stepped inside. Of course, Jonah was the first person she saw. He was wearing his dress blues with a scarlet sash and a silver-handled saber at his waist. She was barely aware of her footsteps as she approached him. His head was bent as he listened to what the lady in front of her was telling him.
When the woman moved on, Jonah turned to Abby.
Time had no meaning; there was no one else in the room as his gaze swept over her. She saw a muscle in his jaw tighten, and a vein in his neck throbbed. He reached out his gloved hand to her and held her hand for a moment longer than he should have.
"Abby, you are looking... beautiful. You take my breath away."
"You are more than kind."
She quickly moved to Patricia and kissed her cheek, and then to the general, who kissed her on both cheeks. He looked handsome and distinguished in his uniform, and it made her smile that he wore no medals or adornment on his chest the Tremains of Philadelphia would not do anything so tasteless as to clutter their uniforms with decorations.
Unlike Diabl
o, where few people ever spoke to Abby, here she was readily accepted. She exchanged greetings with the wives of officers, while several young officers lined up to sign the dance card that Patricia had insisted on giving her.
She tried not to think about Jonah, but his presence seemed to fill the room. It seemed that she had danced with almost every officer there, even the general himself. But the evening was almost over before Jonah finally approached her. He stopped in front of her, standing still and rigid, his eyes holding a hard expression. She wondered what she had done to make him so angry. If she had acted improperly, she wasn't aware of it.
To those who didn't know him, his voice might have sounded tranquil, but he was anything but calm. His blue eyes were sharp and stabbing.
"Is this dance taken?"
Her next dance partner, a lieutenant, had just walked up to her and stood waiting. "I... yes, it is."
His gaze went to the young officer. "You will not mind forgoing this dance, will you, Harrison?"
"No, sir. I mean, not if you-"
"That will be all," Jonah said in a dismissive tone.
When he turned back to Abby, his eyes dared her to reject his offer to dance.
She stepped into his arms, and she had the feeling it was where she belonged. As his gloved hand slid around her waist, and the other one gripped her hand, she closed her eyes, wondering why she felt like crying, and at the same time felt like a wilted rose that could not hold itself upright.
Her head drifted toward his shoulder, where she wanted to lay it. What would his reaction be if she committed such an outrageous act? she wondered. As sanity returned, she jerked herself stiffly upright, thinking she must be losing her mind.
"I watched all night as other men held you, made you laugh. I watched them line up, hoping for a chance to dance with you. Did you enjoy torturing me?"
"I didn't... they weren't-"
"Didn't you? Weren't they?"
His words wound their way through her mind and through her body, forging a path of warmth and torment. She had to fight against the power he was ex uding over her. When she attempted to wrest her hand free of his grasp, he held it fast.
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